The Magical, Miraculous, Mocha Machine
by shywr1ter
Summary: Once again, the team tries to show Gibbs how they feel at Christmas. This year they just might have something. Some whimsical family fluff for IHeartGibbs, as thanks for her managing the NFA Secret Santa gift exchange this year on NFA.


_**A quick little bit of team family-fluff written as a thank you gift for IHeartGibbs for serving as Santa and ring leader for this year's SeSa on NFA. **__ The story was inspired by a couple of her sample prompts, 1-Never mess with a Marine's coffee, if you want to live (team fic, Tony-centric, Papa!Gibbs, Christmas Theme) and 2-Sometimes you're wrong. _Admittedly Gibbs is a bit (a bit?) OOC, especially in the beginning, but what tough guy isn't a little OOC at Christmas?

**Disclaimer:** Meh - you know the drill: no rights, no profits, no fun..._  
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_**THE MAGICAL, MIRACULOUS, MOCHA MACHINE**_

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"'Night, Boss!"

"'Night, Boss!"

Gibbs watched as his senior field agent and his special agent-computer whiz scrambled out of the bullpen and into the elevator, looking a lot more like guilty schoolboys than federal agents. With his surprise drawing his brow into a frown, Gibbs looked over to the third member of his team and saw Ziva blithely typing away, her eyes fixed on her monitor, as if nothing was amiss.

It hadn't been a particularly long day or tough week; it wasn't even all that late in the day. But Gibbs had sensed DiNozzo's energy level, as well as his distraction, building since late afternoon. When Gibbs announced that the team should take off for the day, he'd expected Tony to bolt, but McGee had been a surprise. He couldn't decide if he'd been distracted by DiNozzo's antsy lack of focus – or if he'd been played by the pair of them into missing Tim's involvement. Either way, it was unexpected. And that didn't happen often.

In the next moment he was standing in front of Ziva, staring at her, willing her to provide him with some answers. But his newest agent didn't break the pace of her typing or look up at him. Instead, she allowed a little smile to creep along her mouth, content to wait until he actually spoke.

"Okay," Gibbs muttered, "what was all that about?"

Her smile widened, she finished a line of text, and stopped to look up at him. "Gibbs?" she acknowledged, her eyes twinkling at his consternation.

He rolled his eyes. "What's up with Laurel and Hardy back there? And what sort of diversion is all _this_," he gestured vaguely at her and her keyboard, "supposed to be?"

Ziva chuckled a warm, satisfied chuckle, and said, "it is the sort of diversion they deserve when they leave me behind to be sure to keep you here another thirty minutes, and when asked exactly how I am supposed to do _that,_ toss out snarky comments about using my Mossad training to figure it out."

Gibbs managed not to telegraph too much amusement at how she decided to handle her assignment, and nodded. "And if you manage to keep me here only thirty more seconds?"

At his words, she turned to him more fully, her smile softening. "I will keep you here the full thirty." At his raised eyebrows and snort of skepticism, prodding more from her, she said, evenly, "it is December 23rd, Gibbs, and we will all be back here in the morning to work the day, and to watch Tony's movie in the evening. Since Jack is here, he will join us this year, but then the two of you will be off to have your Christmas together. So, the last day your team has to spring any sort of holiday surprise on you would be this evening, yes? And as much as you will growl and say you do not want anything special and _certainly_ don't want any surprises from us – even more, you do not want to hurt our feelings or ruin our surprise. So... you will wait another..." she glanced at her watch, "twenty seven minutes before you leave for home."

Gibbs stared at her, no ready words in response, and seeing she'd silenced him, Ziva smiled, looking quite pleased with herself, and turned back to her work. After staring at her another few moments, Gibbs finally shook his head and returned to his desk, saying nothing for a full minute more.

"Is Jack in on this?" he finally asked.

"I do not know." Her typing did not slow. "He most likely knows about it, but 'in on it,' I do not know."

Gibbs was silent again until finally, he grumped, "I don't like this, David."

She chuckled and turned to face him again. "It will be _fine_, Gibbs. You know that your team admires you greatly and respects you immensely. There is nothing to be worried about."

At her words, delivered with a knowing twinkle in her eye, Gibbs was placated only a little. He stood and announced, "I'm going to see Ducky" as he strode out of the squad room. When he stormed back in four minutes later, Ziva was still there, still typing away. Gibbs suspected it wasn't work related.

"You knew he wasn't there."

"I did not!" She said, mildly affronted. "However ... you did not ask if I _thought_ he would be."

Gibbs stood between her desk and his, staring at her again and feeling a grudging bit of appreciation at the humor of the situation. He narrowed his eyes and asked, "When I leave here – where are you going?"

"To your house."

"Is that where everyone else is?"

"I do not know. And by 'everyone,' I cannot know precisely who all you include, Gibbs."

"Oh, I think you know 'precisely' who I mean."

"Then I suspect you know the answer to your question as well."

He finally chuckled, shaking his head. "Is this something you learned in Mossad, for handling interrogation? Because it feels more Tony DiNozzo than Eli David. Or maybe more Marx Brothers than either of 'em."

She stood, without packing up her things or shutting down her computer. "If you will excuse me, I need to stop at the ladies' room before leaving. Just so you know I am still here..." She interpreted his eye-roll as acquiescence – and his tacit agreement that he would wait the full thirty minutes with her. She grinned again to herself, enjoying her part immensely.

Once in the restroom, she made a quick call.

"Abby? Did Ducky and Palmer arrive? Yes, Tim and Tony are on their way and yes, Gibbs is still here ... and I believe he will wait. ... Oh, yes, he suspects something is up ... well, because I told him. ... Abby ... _Abby_ ... Tony and McGee ran out of here as if they were shoplifters caught red-handed, and left me very little to work with ... Gibbs knows only that there is a Christmas surprise waiting for him at his house." Another pause, and she soothed, "think about it, Abby! He probably appreciates knowing that we invaded with the best of intentions, and he will be prepared, yes? ... yes, we will leave in another ten minutes. See you then."

She tucked her phone back in her pocket and went back to her desk, slipping into her seat and resuming her typing. Gibbs was not at his desk but his coat was still there. She smiled her satisfaction again. He would not leave before she did.

* * *

As Gibbs pulled into his driveway, he saw that his team was about as concerned as Ziva had been about keeping their presence at his home a secret – Ducky's Morgan was at the curb, as well as Tony and Tim's cars. If Abby or Palmer were involved, they must have ridden with one of the others. Ziva parked at the curb as Gibbs pulled up to his garage, and by the time he was getting out of his car, she was at his driver's side door, waiting.

"With so many people here, maybe you should go through the front door, Gibbs," she counseled mysteriously. "If there is a surprise you do not want to spoil it."

"Not much surprise if all their cars are out here."

"Oh, so then you _know_ what they have in mind for you?" she asked, cheekily, and laughed out loud at his snort in response.

"I worry about you sometimes, David," he grumped as they walked toward his front door. "I think DiNozzo has been a bad influence on you." She chuckled throatily once again, but said nothing as they reached the door. With a final look of trepidation to his junior agent, Gibbs pushed open his door.

Inside, he found a Christmas tree sparking with the old fashioned, bulky lights his father brought from Pennsylvania a few years before, a fire in the fireplace, and his father and Ducky standing in the living room near the entry, mugs of cider in hand.

"Welcome home, son," Jack smiled. "And Ziva..." his eyes lit up and he gave the Israeli a hug. "Come in and get warm."

"Jethro," Ducky lifted his mug toward him. "I was just telling your father about the Christmas you and I spent in France, when we'd just been first introduced. At the time," Ducky looked back to Jack as if to continue the story, "he had just barely gotten started with Mike Franks, and..."

"Hey Boss."

Gibbs turned to find that Tony had bounced up behind him, grinning and still vibrating with energy, but, like the others, greeting him as if Gibbs should have expected them all to have invaded his home. "Did I throw a party I forgot about, DiNozzo?" he griped.

The younger man never lost steam. "Well, I guess we all could've jumped out and yelled surprise if _certain people_ hadn't told you we'd all be here, but then I guess you would've hated that, so maybe it's not so bad that Ms. Ninja-Assassin with the big mouth" he spared a comic glare toward said assassin "spilled the beans."

"She didn't spill much. Is anybody gonna tell me what's going on?" Gibbs prodded.

"Settle down, Leroy – in due time," his father interrupted. "He was always in such a big rush at Christmas to get to his presents," Jack explained to the others, who grinned at the image.

"Oh yeah, Boss?" Tony beamed. "Well, good – this one's almost ready for you."

"DiNozzo..." Gibbs wanted to be accommodating, but he was starting to become frustrated with being the only clueless one in the place.

"And... I know what you're gonna say, before you say it, but you gotta give it a chance. Those who know their stuff say it's _life-changing_," Tony said in a rush. "'cos we love ya, Boss."

Gibbs' skepticism rose again at his words, but a glance to the three at his elbow – Ducky, Ziva and his father – told him that, if anything, they were in full agreement with the assessment. Each wore the satisfied smirk he remembered from Christmases gone by from his parents – or later, from his wife and daughter – when they'd found him a gift they thought was just what he needed. Whether they'd ever been as on target as they'd thought, he knew that the look meant that someone he loved wanted nothing more than to make him happy, and the realization that his team cared as much as his family did ... he cleared his throat brusquely. Before he could speak, however, Abby appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"Hey Gibbs," she beamed. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Abs," he began. "But you're early."

"Not for you."

It almost looked as if Tony's ears literally perked up at that. "We ready, Abs?"

"Yup. C'mon in, Gibbs – we have a surprise for you."

As the team leader moved slowly toward his kitchen, his guests shifted around to trail behind him to watch the fun. Entering the kitchen, he saw Palmer and McGee hovering over the counter in the corner, back to him, speaking low. They turned as they heard Abby exclaim, "surprise!"

"Hey Boss – surprise!" McGee added, and Palmer murmured his own greeting, lost in the shuffle. The two men backed up a bit and Gibbs saw, amid his old-fashioned dinosaur of a kitchen, a gleaming, ultra-modern, black and chrome machine with dials and spigots and glowing numbers...

"It's a _coffee center_, Gibbs!" Abby crowed.

"Yeah, Boss," Tony edged closer, sounding nervous but hopeful. "And we _know_ you don't do foo-foo coffee or lattes or anything like that. And we know that, when we've tried other coffee machines, it didn't always work out..."

"But you gotta admit that French press works for road trips, Gibbs!" Abby interrupted, working for his positive response.

"And this one's different, Boss!" Tim chimed in, lovingly dabbing off any remaining invisible fingerprints from the chrome. "It makes coffee like you've never tasted, regular coffee! And you can set it to make it precisely how you want it, and it makes it cup by cup, so each one is fresh ..."

"These machines are really somethin,' Leroy," Jackson helped. "One of my suppliers tried to interest me in an earlier version for the store. They do all those fancy drinks like cappucino or espresso, but they make a fine cup of good, plain coffee too."

"It starts with whole beans, and grinds them for each cup, Jethro," Ducky chimed in, rolling the 'r' in 'grinds' rather grandly, "and uses steam pressure to make each one at the precise temperature..."

"It makes _crema_ coffee, Boss," Tony interrupted again, excitedly. "It's gonna almost look like it has cream in it when it comes out, but it's just the air in the liquid, and it will settle on top..." Watching as his boss blinked at the enthusiasm in the group, and certain he could read his mind, Tony added apologetically, "look, Boss – we all know how you feel about your coffee, and how you feel about gimmicky blends or machines, and how you think the _only_ way to make coffee is in a machine like _that_," he pointed to his tired-looking Mr. Coffee, moved from its old spot, where the new contraption stood now, to a corner across the kitchen. "...but this one's different, Boss, and ... well, just _try_ it."

"The thing costs about as much as my last truck did, son," he heard Jack lean close to whisper. "Give it a shot."

Still not speaking, Gibbs took a couple steps closer to the glittering gadget and, eyebrows raised, leaned sideways to take another look at it. With a glance to the team's MIT grad, he asked, "how do ya work it, McGee?"

The room let out a collective sigh in relief as Tim grinned, "like this, Boss – all you have to do for a single cup is hit this button – hold it until it says strong." As Gibbs did so and the machine set up a noisy whirring, Tim said "I took the liberty of pre-setting the water and the grind to what I thought you'd like, but it can be adjusted to exactly how you want it."

"Those are the beans grinding," Abby added over the racket, helpfully, and pointed, "in there."

The sounds changed and a small amount of coffee came out. The machine changed sounds again, and at his frown, Palmer assured him, "that's just from the initial steam through the grounds as it moistens them ... it's coming..."

And it did. Gibbs managed to hold in his amusement at how this whole crowd of people were as excited about the machine before him as if they'd invented it themselves.

...he sure hoped the coffee was passable.

Just as Tony said, the coffee coming out of the spigots looked more and more like pre-creamed coffee, although it smelled rich and strong. As the liquid slowed to a drip and the machine stopped its rumble, Tim reached across to pull out the steaming mug and offered it to Gibbs as if it were priceless. "Boss?"

Gibbs accepted the mug with a nod, determined to show his appreciation with the clearly too-expensive gift, no matter how bad the coffee tasted. He cast only the tiniest fish-eye toward the thin layer of foam on the surface – _"crema,"_ according to Tony – and took a whiff.

Not bad at all.

And with seven pair of eyes locked on him, far too interested in his reaction to this particular cup of coffee to be healthy, he took a slow, careful mouthful...

The room waited...

And Gibbs frowned his surprise. The coffee was good, no doubt. But more than good, it was ... _smooth._ _**Creamy**__. _There wasn't a trace of bitterness in what was clearly a very strong cup of coffee, and it was as thick and velvety as a cup of homemade hot chocolate.

He blinked.

He sipped again, and his sip turned into a satisfied mouthful.

"Boss?" Tony dared.

Gibbs rolled the coffee around on his tongue before swallowing the rich, warm brew. He was starting to get a kick out of the fact that the whole crowd of them were waiting for his pronouncement. But he owed them something, for this, for the fact that they really wanted to give him a special gift.

"C'mon, Gibbs," Abby bounced. "What do you think?"

Dramatically, he took another long draw of coffee, savored it, then swallowed. "Rule 51," he finally growled – to the literal cheers of his team.

Not understanding exactly what had just happened, Jack turned to Ziva, her arm still linked in his. "Rule 51?" he tried.

"'Sometimes you're wrong,'" she quoted, and grinned along with Jack as he beamed his approval at his son.

"Well then, come on, Leroy – you gonna let this crowd have a taste, too?"

And in moments, the kitchen was filled with laughter and excited chattering, as more cups were brewed, and the sugary treats brought by his team magically appeared to be passed around to go with the coffee. Gibbs found himself draining his first cup of crema coffee and, almost immediately, it was taken and put back in the machine for a refill.

As he took his second cup and watched Tim turn back to Tony to debate the series of settings and how many presets were available, Gibbs looked back to see Ziva and Jack watching him in amusement. "What?" he demanded.

"Merry Christmas, Gibbs," Ziva grinned. Impulsively, she darted forward to plant a kiss on his cheek, then moved over to line up for a cup of coffee, joining in with the discussion among the others about trying the frother in the hazelnut creamer Tony had brought.

"Merry Christmas, Leroy," his father said again. "It looks like you got two very special gifts this year – that big, fancy machine – and a group of people here who love you and have turned your team into a family. I'm glad to see it."

"Three gifts, Dad," Gibbs felt a satisfied smile begin to cross his features, and he looped an arm around the older man's shoulders. "You were here to share it with me, too." At the slight misting he saw in his father's eyes, he tightened his grip just a little. "Merry Christmas, Dad." With his father's satisfied, emotional nod, Gibbs looked back to the milling crowd in his kitchen and smiled a little wider. Not only had he been wrong about the 'only' way to make coffee – he was wrong that being wrong was always a bad thing.

In fact ... maybe he had _another_ rule there...

**MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GREAT CUP OF COFFEE!**

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A/N #1 This year's SeSa entry - the real one- will be posted tomorrow or so. Think of this as the appetizer.

A/N #2 More important: this is a real machine! It's an "automatic coffee center" by Jura-Capresso that we've had for about 5 years. We are serious coffee addicts at our house, like Gibbs - as in, dark, black, no foo-foo coffee. The coffee that this machine makes is _amazing. _Trust me: Gibbs would be a convert, too. ;]


End file.
